Silver Dinosaur
by a mountain of gideon's scones
Summary: Because when your boyfriend looks older than your Dad, you know something is up!


_For all of you who like Lily/Teddy :P_

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Awkward… that's about the only thing that you can say when you accidentally turn your boyfriend into a silver dinosaur.

Awkward.

Oh yeah, and pretty much the entire wizarding world will see it by tomorrow morning, if they haven't already.

Double awkward.

And the icing on the cake is that most of the photos will have his face covered in a chocolate éclair.

My name? Lily Potter, but most people I know seem to call me Lil. I mean _come on_. My name is _two_ syllables – Lil-eeee. It isn't as if my name is French so people don't know how to pronounce it (for argument's sake, lets take Victoire) or ridiculously long like… well, I can't think of an example right now, but I know a lot.

What was the point I was going on about before I descended into ramblings about my name and how people ought to call me Lily (not that I really _mind _Lil)? Oh yeah, I was talking about how I turned my boyfriend (Teddy Lupin, not exactly ancient at thirty next year) from his normal hunky self into someone who resembled my _grandfather_… as long as it's when Ted has red hair, since Grandad Weasley _still_ has a full crop of flaming red hair and he couldn't turn back.

If you are a normal person, well you'll be thinking he is a Metamorphagus so he should have been able to turn back to his usual colouring of reddish-brown and not have wrinkles as if he hasn't been in two centuries, but rather three… hey! Maybe _this_ is something like what Dumbledore looked like! … But I heard he had more hair.

Still, that isn't the point. The point _here_, at this current moment in time, is that Teddy's hair is a shocking crop of silver; his face looks as if he is over one hundred, and he is all hunched over. The question I _know_ you are asking is how the hell did this happen? Well… that story is the funny part.

It's my Dad's birthday today, so we all gathered together for a party. Of course, the world's wizarding media _had_ to come along and gather outside, waiting for something out of the ordinary to happen (it's a _Potter/Weasley _party; something _had_ to happen) to justify them waiting outside in the scorching heat wearing… Muggle clothes. It was _the_ funniest thing when I saw one of the guys wearing a frilly pink dress that a woman would wear. The only slightly unfunny image when I saw that was that he was taking a magical photo of my suddenly aged boyfriend, which was _not_ good.

Back to the point of the story. So, we all gathered together at my parent's house for the party of the year for my forty eight year old father – not the century or even the decade since I turned eighteen this decade/century and that was _way_ bigger than this – and everything was flowing fine. Nobody had gotten embarrassingly pissed then, though my uncle George seemed close, and everyone adored my Gran's food.

Trust it to be _me_ that spoiled everything.

Everyone thinks I'm an average witch, that everyone else in the family got the wonderful magic genes and that I, as the youngest, missed out on the wonderful gene. I'm a great flyer, they grant me that, but apparently Transfiguration and Charms weren't my _best_ subjects… then again, according to them all, I didn't exactly excel at Potions and the rest of my chosen subjects at Hogwarts. And I suppose the fact I deigned to become a professional Quidditch player rather than go to the new wizarding university which sprung up simply because of the masses of new wizards (something tells me that our family contributed to the numbers _quite_ a bit) that are around now. That peeved me off a bit, since my Mum, brother and _boyfriend_ are all professionals… or they were, in the case of my Mum. But that's not the point; the point here is that I'm apparently an average witch.

That's a stereotype I have wanted to shake off from myself in my family for _quite_ some time. Since, like, I was eleven. So it's a pretty big thing for me.

This is the reason why, when I noticed Teddy had a little cut on his face from when he must have cut himself shaving this morning. And of course, with me being so keen to prove myself, I _had_ to get my mahogany 13" unicorn hair wand out and heal it myself.

"You've got a cut on your face," I alerted my boyfriend to the fact as my wand was already half out of my bag.

"Oh, I'll sort it," he tried to protest that he could do it himself as my wand neared closer and closer to his face.

"I got it," I told him firmly, keen for the entire typecast that I have in my family to be able to go poof when I proved my ministrations were just as good as the rest of theirs.

Unfortunately, I didn't _quite_ prove that.

Instead of using the healing charm which I was _positive_ was 'Eriskey', I ended up mixing it up with the premature ageing charm, which had him looking like the silver dinosaur he now resembles within less than a second.

Predictably, the entire room was watching my magical skills and the gasp that went around them all could have put the one that occurred when Dad beat Voldemort to shame, from what I have heard of it. It could _definitely_ put the one to shame that Victoire got when she announced she was pregnant with her boyfriend, Jonny Ackerley who is the younger brother of Stuart Ackerley, my Dad's age. It isn't like it's a _major_ age difference, only like 12 years but… yeah, back to the point.

"Lily what have you _done_?" my Mum gasped as she ran across the room from standing by my Dad to observe Teddy's appearance, which is, by the way, complete with a beard which could rival one of those Archbishops that are always on the television whenever I turn it on.

"It was an _accident_," I protested, but nobody besides Teddy seemed to hear me. Every other person besides my parents, Victoire, Gran and Aunt Fleur were all almost rolling on the floor with laughter, whilst Uncle Bill was handing a galleon to Uncle George who had obviously won a bet on what would be happening: whether it was that _I_ would screw up or just how long it would take for a screw up, I don't know, but it wasn't good.

Of course, the paps _had_ to get a picture from their position beside the window and no amount of charming the curtains to move across would get them to do such a thing. So Teddy and I hurried into the back room, where both Gran and Mum tried every spell that they could think of to get him to change back to normal, but they wouldn't work.

Then I had a brain wave.

"Um, could I have a go?" I suggested, and the entire room (there was about five of us in there) turned to look at me in shock.

"Darling, you are the one who _caused_ this," Dad said to me softly, trying to not hurt me because I am his girl but not wanting me to cause any _more_ damage than I already had.

"Yeah, but I know _why_ I screwed up," I pressed, remembering the thing that I said wrong.

"Go ahead and enlighten us then," Mum said, sounding quite sour – well, I _did_ sort of destroy Dad's party.

"Remember a couple of years ago when Uncle George came up with that spell that would age people, for Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, but it sort of didn't really work out well?" I reminded them of the fun and games the majority of us had with that spell… I still remember school that year. Hugo and I were the only ones who knew the spell and so we began to spread it around our group, using it on the people we didn't like. Of course McGonagall _had_ to find out that Hugo and I were behind it and we got trapped in her office for about five billion years, but that's where it stemmed from.

The only reason we actually got in trouble was because we didn't have a cure for it… and it took Uncle George three months to figure it out. So there was about fifty million people (Slytherins mainly) who looked as if they had switched generations with their great grandparents because they were that old. Needless to say the Quidditch Cup came to Gryffindor instantly that year.

But the point is that _I _knew the solution… and so does Hugo and Uncle George, they were just probably laughing too hard at the suddenly decrepit appearance of the hunky sex god I call my boyfriend (the rest of the world call him Teddy) to tell anyone.

"So what do you do then?" Mum pressed and I smiled, taking Teddy's hand and leading him through to the room with the paps outside, knowing that this was the only way to get him to turn back to be normal again.

I picked up a chocolate éclair and took a deep breath before proceeding to launch it into Teddy's face, hearing screams of NO from Uncle George and Hugo but it being too late to do anything about it…

… too late, I remembered that the cure was a _custard cream_, but it had to be one of the addled ones that made you into a canary if you ate it – people _still_ crack up about Uncle Neville eating one of them.

"Ooops," I giggled as Teddy wiped chocolate sauce from his eyes and grinned at me, an evil twinkle in his eye that made me positive I was going to regret that.

But nothing happened… nothing besides a custard cream being thrown at Teddy by Uncle George and my wonderful beau returning to me, his unwrinkled face peering down at me, his hair suddenly back being its usual reddish brown hue but covered in custard cream.

But I ignore all of this as his hands wrap around my back and he bends over to kiss my lips softly, custard cream being the new foundation on face…

…mmmm, yummy! I guess who knew that a silver dinosaur could be so hot?

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_Review, please!_

_Vicky xx_


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